Black script lettering reading She laughs without Fear of the future, shown on the lower back in fine ink and again on the side of the ribs, in a two-panel photo.

Script quote tattoo on lower back and side

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A two-panel photograph shows a fine black script quote, reading She laughs without Fear of the future, tattooed across the lower back in the top panel and on the side of the torso in the lower panel. The lettering is thin, even and flowing, with smooth linework and no shading. The top panel frames the back in a pink top and light denim jeans, with a dark patterned tattoo partly visible at the edge of the upper arm.

Lettering Back Ribs Quote Script Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The town of Avrenmoor had three hundred bells and one scribe who could make a line of ink look like it was walking, and you are that scribe, Teodor Fell. The Lady Mireth hires you at dawn to letter a motto above the orchard gate before the midsummer fair. She hands you a folded slip: She laughs without fear of the future. You read it twice and tell her the strokes must be thin, because heavy ink shouts, and she has asked for something that sounds like a girl humming over washing.

Keep reading

For four days you work with a goose quill cut to a hair's edge. The loops must lean the same way, like barley under one wind. The steward keeps sending boys to ask for bolder letters, and you keep sending them back with the same answer. On the fourth evening Mireth comes down to the orchard herself, barefoot, with plum juice on her chin, and reads the draft aloud. She stops at the word future and laughs, a sudden bright sound that startles a blackbird out of the pear tree. She says the steward will never understand why a sentence about tomorrow should look so light.

The king's clerk arrives the next week with a brass rule and measures every stroke, then measures them again, and finds them even to a thousandth of an inch. He orders the words copied onto the sides of the royal carriages, then onto the lintels of the granary, then onto the harness of the post-horses that carry letters north. You never see most of them. But in the autumn a carter stops at your door with a bag of pears and asks whether you are the man who wrote the saying about laughing. You tell him you only wrote the strokes. He shrugs, bites a pear, and says the strokes were enough.